


Better Than Revenge

by Iris_Celeno



Category: Code Black (TV)
Genre: All tidied up and tied up with a nice bow, Cathartic fan/shipper's revenge, Christeal lives on, F/M, His girl in his shirt, Lots and lots of feelings too, Never give up never surrender, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 05:07:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7154795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iris_Celeno/pseuds/Iris_Celeno
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-finale. Grace thinks that she succeeded in breaking up Neal and Christa. She shows up at his apartment at the <i>most</i> inopportune moment and comeuppance ensues.<br/>The rating is the one and only mature element in this story (and is justified plenty).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a.k.a. _Neal and Christa are reunited, he sees her wearing nothing but his shirt and things get slightly very much heated_  
>  by an author whose mind took permanent residence in the gutter courtesy of her OTP
> 
> In other words, this chapter is mostly a setup and a shameless PWP ("with plot" version, I guess). There will be character development later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Non beta-ed, please forgive any mistake you might find.

Neal opened one eye and closed it again: He was dead tired. He was lying on his stomach, in his bed, he felt wonderfully spent, it was still mid-afternoon so he had plenty of time before his shift and there was a delicious smell floating in his flat, his still drowsy mind assessed as it slowly awakened. The surgeon stretched his long body, buried his head in his pillow, and let out a deep sigh of well-being. 

Christa was cooking, he deduced, submerged by a wave of intense relief. She was here with him, she was here to stay. 

He had been _this close_ to losing her because his head had been buried in his own issues and specifically, up his own arse, since Grace's return and his jumping ship to Surgery did a number on him.  
It didn't even occur to him that keeping everything to himself could hurt Christa instead of sparing her of his personal turmoil and angst while he sorted it out; not until he saw her crestfallen face last night when he told her he had once proposed to Grace.  
And after he had refused the out she gave him, told her he wanted to be with her and that Grace was his past, it didn't even occur to him that his emotionally closed-off attitude could lead her to believe he still had feelings for his ex-girlfriend; not until he heard her utter the words “second choice” this morning. 

Yet, even though he had been too baffled to react on the spot, her intention of breaking up with him made for a salutary wake-up call. He had planned to catch her after work, but when Leanne sent her to Surgery and therefore to him for a follow-up on an ER patient just before end of shift, he acted on impulse, all but hauled her to a supply room and finally _talked_ to her. The discussion was heated, because of course she was deeply upset and afraid to trust him and at first she wanted some time apart anyway. But he refused to give up, bared his soul and deepest fears to her and he was ready to grovel at her feet if he had to since losing her was inconceivable and unacceptable and he _couldn't_ , when at long last she believed the truth. There was no other, there never was any other. Only her.  
He couldn't get rid of a nagging anguish that she might change her mind, feeling reassured only once she was home with him. He intended to prove her right for trusting him, but it would be on the long run, so first he had strived to prove to her just how much he wanted her and needed her and craved for her. Hence, his current dead tired state.

He was even more hungry than worn out, though, and the incredibly appealing smell of whatever she was cooking dragged him out of bed. He grabbed a pair of jeans but didn't find his T-shirt in the heap of clothes near the bed. Walking into the living-room in search of it, his eyes fell upon another bunch of clothes on the floor, mostly Christa's. His lips curved up in a fond and satisfied grin.

Then he saw her, and his grin vanished.

She was in front of the stove in the open kitchen, stirring eggs and herbs in a frypan, humming a tune; her gaze was focused on her task, her smile dreamy. 

And she was wearing the very garment he had been looking for. 

Christa in his shirt was a turn on in itself, but it wasn't any other shirt. It was the black and grey striped V-neck he wore on the day they had breakfast together for the first time, the day he realized the depth of his physical attraction to her.  
The day he forced himself to call two cabs because they were drunk and in the end he couldn't but look at her lips in silence and she let him and if he kissed her he'd never stop and her eyes said that she wanted it as much as he did but it was too crazy, it was too soon.  
The day he spent his afternoon having drunk fantasies about her and about what they should have done, instead of sleeping, and in his favorite one she didn't find her clothes when she woke up in his bed so she put his shirt on instead, until he took it off her again.

Right now, she was a fantasy come true. The dark colors complimented her milky skin, the shirt was too large for her so she had rolled up the sleeves past her elbows and the collar fell to one side, partially baring the smooth curve of her shoulder, exposing the soft round swell at the top of her cleavage since she didn't bother to close the buttons. At the same time she was quite tall and the hem of the T-shirt just covered the top of her thighs, each and every of her moves dangerously flirting with indecency but never actually revealing anything, keeping him on pins and needles. He watched in fascination as the fabric shifted up and down, teasing, beckoning, the contrast with her unawareness, wholesome looks and doe eyes exciting him in the most primal way. His weariness was forgotten and replaced with a keen, almost painful urge to grab her, plop her on the kitchen countertop and take her until she screamed and begged him for release. 

_Hi, my name is Neal and I'm an addict_ , he thought. Unless she was a witch and had cast a spell on him, it was the only explanation as to why the mere sight of her was enough to change him into a sex-starved caveman. 

The last touch to the late lunch Christa was preparing, scrambled eggs with chive and cilantro, was almost done. Her mind now off the task at hand she noticed, from the corner of her eye, Neal's presence in the living room.

This morning, she thought they were over, she was so certain of it that she even told Malaya. She was sick to her stomach by end of shift, on her way to Surgery after Leanne ordered her in her not-taking-no-for-an-answer tone to do a follow-up on a ER patient; she didn't know how she'd manage to face him and not die inside or break into tears or throttle him.  
Yet most unexpectedly, Neal had talked to her and cleared the misunderstanding between them. Following her heart, she had let herself be persuaded to give their relationship a chance. Nevertheless, deep down, she had been afraid that her mind wouldn't be able to forget the heartache of the last couple of weeks so easily. The situation as well as the horrible feeling of being a fly bumping against a window were too reminiscent of the disastrous way her marriage had ended.  
Still, when she woke up in Neal's arms and the first thing she saw was the peaceful smile on his sleeping face and the first thing she felt, his arm wrapped possessively around her hip, she had found no trace of regret, resentment or fear anywhere within her. His recent side-stepping was now explained and forgiven. She only remembered how completely honest he was with her during their discussion, how much of himself he shared with her. Aware of what it must have cost to someone as reserved and proud as he was, she could bear no grudge. She only saw that they were closer, stronger now than before. Maybe for once in her life, the gain had been worth the pain.

For these reasons, a happy and heartfelt smile blossomed on her lips as she turned around to greet him.

Then she saw him, and her smile vanished.

He was standing still, in a pair of faded jeans, looking over her body with a hungry gaze that had her insides quiver. Then his eyes bored into hers and the intense desire she read there knocked the wind out of her, heat sparking in her belly, her skin tingling with excitement. 

“Hi,” she tried. 

She sounded out of breath. She _was_ out of breath. She had to suffer from some sort of medical condition. It was the only explanation as to why a simple look from him could bring her near spontaneous combustion.

“Come here,” he demanded, as if he didn't hear her. 

She knew this gravelly tone of voice, she knew what it meant and it left her weak at the knees. Neal was a giving lover, always passionate, often tender, but the couple of times he had been in this particular state he had revealed another side of him, driving her crazy with need until he made her come so hard she was sobbing. The memories hitting her brain in flashes of sensations gave her goose bumps, and she found herself eager to play with fire.

“Why, hello to you, too.” 

Her playful scolding seemed to snap him out of a trance and he smiled back. She loved his smile, the way his whole face lit, the warmth he exuded then, and the almost boyish charm it gave him. Sometimes it made her lose her train of thought, she had trouble focusing on anything but his lips. Right now, combined with the lust in his eyes, it was such a turn on that she had to squeeze her legs together.

“Hello,” he nodded with good grace. “Come here, and I'll greet you properly.”

She shook her head, reaching behind her to turn off the stove and the oven since upon her refusal he walked towards her in hurried strides. God knew when he'd be done with her, no need to burn anything else in here. He stopped inches away from her, and she could feel the heat radiating from his body. 

“This is my shirt,” he stated. 

“You want it back? But I'm not wearing anything else,” she suggested, her smile innocent, her eyes all but. 

She had the satisfaction to see him miss a beat.

“No, I want you to keep it on the whole time,” he answered with a dark and hot gaze that she felt from head to toe, as if he was touching her already. 

Her thoughts dissolved in a shiver and left her unable to find a witty comeback, but it didn't matter since he didn't wait any longer to draw her into his arms and cover her mouth with his, one hand cupping her jaw, the other pressing on her hip.

Neal sometimes thought that he could spend hours simply kissing her, and he saw no reason for not indulging. Her lips were small, chiseled, delicate, and he reveled in grazing them, nibbling them, playing with them until they were warm and soft and pliant. They parted for him when his tongue traced the line between them and he could drink her sweet sigh as he deepened their kiss; but instead of quenching his thirst for her, touching her increased it and her unexpected response got him dizzy.  
Christa was as generous and honest in bed as she was in life, she never tried to conceal her desire for him or the pleasure he gave her; she was always playful, often brazen but today she was different. She simply yielded, granting full possession of her delicious mouth to him, pressing languidly her body against his, the strokes of her hands on his shoulders and upper arms almost demure. Every of her gestures told him that she was following his lead, that she was his to do as he pleased. 

“Come back to bed with me,” he coaxed, steering her toward the bedroom.

He had her in his house, in his clothes, in his arms so he wanted her in his bed, he wanted to take his time with her and relish in making love to her...

“Anything you want...” 

Although they might not make it that far if she kept being so compliant, feeding a surge of possessiveness that threatened to overwhelm him. The memories of the moment when he thought he had lost her and the fear he experienced then were still there, lurking, making him desperate for her. The more she gave, the more he craved, the more he needed to ensure that she was his, all his and only his. He wanted her to long for him, too, so he slid his hands under the fabric of his V-neck, up her waist, to wander over smooth skin and lavish attention on her breasts. She stumbled, halted, gasped into their kiss. It wasn't long before her breathing was labored and she threw her head back, hands burying in his hair. He took advantage of it to trail his lips alongside her neck, until they reached just below her collarbone where he sucked her sweet flesh into his mouth. She tightened her hold on him, fingers grasping at his skull, and moaned half in delight, half in protest.

“I'm working tonight, remember?” she warned, her voice already faraway. 

In place of an answer, he made another kiss mark a little higher. 

“Neal,” she protested again with a husky laugh, taking his face between her hands to stop him. “How old are you? Everybody will see it if you're not careful...”

He straightened up, put his hands back on her hips, and looked into her eyes. He had done it on the spur of the moment, for him and not for others, because he loved the mouthwatering taste of her and because she was his. But he suddenly found himself needing to know she didn't mind to show the whole world that she belonged to him.

“I don't care. Do you?”

Her countenance changed root and branch as she gazed back at him, it was as if she was reading his mind. Gone was the laughter in her voice, the restraint in her caresses, the indolence in her stance. 

“In truth, not really,” she answered as seriously as he had asked.

Her gaze was clear and ardent, her fingers threaded lovingly, enticingly in his hair now. Then, slowly tilting her head back, she offered her neck to him.

“Mine,” he murmured against her skin, before he marked her once more, just where her pulse was beating.

Her little pleased gasp went straight to his groin, and their following kiss was ravenous. He pulled her flush against him while he ravaged her mouth, she tried to press even closer while her tongue boldly battled his. Lips still joined, they staggered to the bedroom, but he was burning with need. Seeking relief, he stopped in his tracks, began to grind his pelvis against her. She broke their kiss, feverishly holding on to him, biting her lower lip not to moan, then begging him not to stop. It wasn't enough, though, it wasn't enough that she showed him, he needed to hear it. 

“Say you're mine,” he rasped.

He had intended it as an order, it sounded half like a plea. 

“Make me,” she panted.

Heat flashed in Neal's eyes as he captured her mouth once more and Christa let herself drown in his embrace, the way she had wanted since he put his hands on her earlier. The strain of the last weeks had finally caught up with her, all the more since breaking-up with him this morning had drained until the last drops of her willpower. She was tired of fighting and just for once she needed to let go, she needed him, she needed his strength since she had none left. He lifted her up and once in his arms, she was floating in a haze of heat and pleasure where she could forget everything but his touch, his voice, his scent... 

Her mind cleared when he laid her down on the couch, pushing her gently against the cushions until she was propped on her elbows. No bed? 

“Too far,” he mumbled in answer to her interrogative glance, brushing his mouth against hers, again and again, in rhythm with his hands stroking up and down the inner side of her thighs. “I want you now, Christa.”

“I want you, too.”

Her hands were going for the zipper of his jeans, but he stopped her gesture. 

“Not like this.”

She realized that she was settled on the edge of the couch and he was kneeling in front of her, her legs on either side of him. Her breathing hitched. The mere idea of his mouth on her got her light-headed, thrilled and in dim trepidation. She could see in his eyes that he intended to make her scream out loud whereas she was desperate for him already.  
He leaned in for yet another consuming, possessive kiss, prompting her to stop thinking. His tongue tangled with hers, deliberately arousing her but as always with Neal, there was something so loving underlying passion that she she trusted him fully. He made her yearn to please her more, not to dominate her, he made love to her to give and not only to take.  
The palm of his hands, smooth and hot, traveled up the sides of her body and bunched up his shirt she was still clad in, baring her below her chest. When they made their way back down to grasp firmly her hips, her nerves tingled; when his lips left hers to hover teasingly over her collarbone and her breasts, her heart fluttered. He peppered a few light kisses on her midriff, sending a delightful shiver coursing through her body, then set his mouth to the sensitive skin of her stomach and devored it hungrily, sending flames coursing through her veins. He dipped his tongue in her belly button, giving little flicks of the tip in a clear foretaste of what he'd do later. Her muscles clenched, the throbbing between her legs intensified, her eyes rolled back and she was abandoning herself to his blissful teasing when someone rang at his door, breaking the moment.

“Let them be,” he urged, now drawing a path of open-mouth kisses further down her abdomen.

He had her wound tight in anticipation, but of course he didn't go where she wanted and instead, his generous mouth moved back up. He traced the indentation of her hipbone with his lips and tongue and finished his exploration with a light nip of his teeth that sent sharp heat to her center and had his name spill from her lips in the softest whimper.

The doorbell rang again, then again a second later. She sagged against the couch with a whine of displeasure while he growled and sat up. But instead of going away, he pulled her into his arms.

“Don't move,” Neal enjoined Christa in between two hot and urgent kisses. He truly was addicted to her, addicted to the sweet, heady, delectable taste of her mouth and he just couldn't stop. “I'll get rid of them and I'll be back before you can miss me.”

“What if I miss you already?” she sighed, kissing him back in earnest.

She was adorable and exquisite and he wanted to eat her whole _now_. But a fourth bloody infuriating ring allowed him to muster enough willpower to let go of her and get up. 

He was going to kill whoever was at the door, he swore inwardly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story solves the triangle as quickly and easily as possible and focuses exclusively on the Neal/Christa romance. It will have some common elements with my other post-finale fic, Not Given Lightly, especially when it comes to explaining Neal's attitude, but they're treated under very different angles.  
> This one will be updated more quickly, because more chapters are ready to be posted and to be very honest, after you-know-what, I don't feel like writing about characters other than Neal and Christa (or their families, expect a comeback from the Hudsons soon). I need to stay in my little OTP bubble for a couple of weeks at least.  
> Next chapter: Grace unknowingly boards the roller-coaster of comeuppance.  
> Thanks for reading!


	2. Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a.k.a _Grace is a conceited manipulative hypocrite and it gets her kicked to the curb and beyond_ ,  
> by a petty, childish and vindictive author (but she _was_ )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Non beta-ed, please forgive any mistake you might find.

Standing in front of Neal's appartment, Grace Adams took a deep breath. Finally, life was going to resume its normal course. 

Leaving Neal had been a mistake. She was already treating Roseline with adopting her in mind when, at the prospect of coming back to Los Angeles, she realized that she missed him and still had feelings for him. They were good together, they were an invincible team and now that her aspirations were fulfilled, she was ready to settle down. Of course, she felt absolutely able to raise the little girl alone, but it would be better if she had a stable home and more than a single parent. 

It had been a slap in the face to learn that Neal had found someone else. He had _proposed to her_ , so you'd think he wouldn't be moving on within a mere year of their separation. Worst, he was adamant that his new relationship was serious. After it had taken him almost two years to even ask _her_ out, she didn't believe a word of it; and rightfully so.  
Christa Lorenson was all wrong for him, to start with. She was too emotional and way too naive for her age, the pure cosseted blonde type. She'd never understand someone as deep and complex as Neal. Moreover, he wasn't over them at all in spite of his denials. How could he pretend that Grace wasn't important to him, after he changed careers and went back to surgery for her? How could he stubbornly pretend that he didn't do it for her, for that matter?  
It hurt her, though, to see him with another and it hurt when he tried to spite her, like when he let Christa wear the scarf she once offered him.  
Yet Grace didn't give up easily when she wanted something. She knew that she'd just have to be around Neal and he'd remember what they had, what they shared. Once he realized that nothing compared, he'd get over his resentment and admit he still loved her. Yes, she had made a mistake, but she was sorry for it and they could work it out. It shouldn't doom them to misery for the rest of their lives. 

Anyway, Neal was now a free man. She didn't hear what Christa told him this morning during their conversation in the stairs, yet from his reaction and a bribe of conversation she overheard between Malaya Pineda and Mario Savetti, she was certain it was over.  
She would have liked to hear it from the horse's mouth. Unfortunately when, by end of shift, she was heading to Surgery under the pretext of a follow-up on an ER patient, Leanne had asked her for help with reviewing the charts, telling her she'd send Savetti upstairs instead. After the favors Grace had asked herself, she couldn't refuse and Neal was already gone by the time their work was done. So she caught some sleep, then had lunch and stayed with Roseline until it was time for the girl's physical therapy.

And now, here she was, she thought when Neal finally opened the door.

She had to ring four times for him to answer and had she not seen his car parked in front of the condo, she'd have worried he had gone to Christa's in spite of everything. Yet very simply, he had been asleep. He was the image of a man dragged out of bed: wearing only a pair of jeans, hair tousled, looking befuddled and deeply annoyed at once. 

Annoyed. Not sad, not hurt as he should be after a break-up. She knew it. He never had real feelings for Christa Lorenson. She was sorry for the other woman, really she was. But after all, it was better for her that she didn't waste her time on someone who would never be into her. 

“Grace?” he uttered, surprised. 

She'd have preferred to see an expression of _pleased_ surprise and was disappointed that he stayed inside, behind the door he kept slightly ajar, instead of inviting her in; but after all he was barely awake. 

“What are you doing here?”

She gave him her brightest, most apologetic smile. 

“I was worried about you, after this last shift and everything that happened...so I thought I'd drop by and see how you were doing.”

“It's very kind of you, but people usually call before paying a visit. Listen...”

“Don't be a stranger! I'm not 'people',” she cut short, her eyes warm, her tone slightly reproachful. “This morning, you left without even saying goodbye. We never finished our conversation...and I think we should. Won't you let me in?”

His expression darkened. Definitely, he and Christa were over. His next words confirmed it.

“This isn't the moment, Grace.”

This was Neal for you. He always tried to do the right thing. In his mind, of course it wasn't the moment. It was a question of principle, he couldn't conceive of leaving one woman for another. It went against everything he believed in, against the way his idealist of a mother had raised him, and he certainly felt awfully guilty.  
It was up to her to convince him that he shouldn't, not in this particular case. Actually, _Christa_ was the intruder in their relationship, albeit an involontary one. And she was the one who ended it so technically he didn't leave her, even though he chose Grace. There was no right and no wrong here, just a lot of grey areas. They didn't need to go public immediately, anyway, although it wasn't as if the blonde didn't know by now who was in Neal's heart. Grace had seen to it that her rival was aware of her importance in his life, it was only fair. And it seemed that she had taken the hint. 

Neal was on the verge of closing the door, so she decided to take a more direct approach.

“I'm sure that Christa will understand...” 

Now, he looked astonished. “What?”

“Listen, I saw how upset she was this morning, I was witness to your discussion...it was easy for me to guess what went down and seeing you right now just confirmed it. I know you, I know how kind, decent and generous you are. I know that you certainly blame yourself for this situation. But one day, she'll understand. You can't control how you feel.” 

She expected her words to soothe him, yet they seemed to irritate him instead. Probably, Christa had accused her of coming between them. 

“I know that she resents me, and I can't really fault her. In a way, I guess you can say that I'm responsible,” she went on, peering at him from under her eyelashes. “I didn't mean to cause any trouble for anyone, you know. I feel so sorry.”

“Grace, there are boundaries that you need to respect,” he scolded, his gaze now hardened.

So that was it, he resented her for the situation. Of course, she could understand that he was angry with her for leaving, and upset because she came back right around the time he was trying to move on. He simply needed to realize that he was angry and upset _because_ he still loved her. But obviously, he wasn't ready to face his feelings yet.  
Well, she'd just have to be patient. She was what was best for him and the first time around, they had started out as friends. History would just repeat itself. 

“I'm your friend, Neal. I've always been, and I know you. I know you don't feel well these days. I'm here for you. I just want what's best for you...Won't you let me in?” she repeated.

He studied her face in silence, as if he saw her for the first time. He was making a decision, she understood. Several emotions flickered in his brown eyes, hesitation, sadness maybe, but in such a rapid succession that she couldn't get a clear reading of them all. 

Yet finally, he opened the door wide and leaned his back against it, allowing her in. She contained a grin. It was a baby step, yes, but a victorious one.

“It's the first time I'm in this apartment since my return,” she smiled warmly as she entered, appealing to the memories they shared of the place.

She looked around, noticing that he had made lots of changes and...

“Good to know.” 

Grace's face fell. 

Christa was standing in the living room, hands on her hips.

She was wearing one of Neal's V-necks and...not much else, it seemed. Her hair was ruffled. Her lips were swollen. Even from where Grace was, she could see kiss marks on her neck and collarbone. There were clothes in a heap on the floor, and a black lace bra was the most visible piece.

In a flash, she remembered Neal's befuddled expression, his tousled hair...Oh no, he _didn't_. He _wouldn't_. 

He was in bed with Christa while she was waiting at his door, hopeful...no, certain that he'd come back to her? 

He had invited her in the sole purpose to flaunt their relationship, their _physical_ relationship, in her face?

She had never endured such a humiliation in her whole existence. She spun around to face Neal, outraged. How could he, how dared he do that to her?

“I told you...but once more you didn't _listen_. You should have called before visiting and it wasn't the moment,” he berated her by way of an explanation. 

He paid no mind to her glare and addressed Christa instead, as if he looked for her approval.

“Since Grace said she was worried about the state of our relationship and sorry that she might have caused problems for us, I thought that we ought to reassure her.”

“How kind of you, Dr Adams,” the blonde remarked politely, ever so coldly. 

Grace was outraged, not hurt, Neal noticed with relief. He had made the right call. He knew that from the living room, Christa could certainly hear their conversation at the door and seeing no censure in her eyes comforted him. She understood, and it was all he cared about. 

“We need to talk,” Grace demanded, ignoring her. “Alone.”

He felt his temper rise again, all the more since he felt guilty. He loathed the idea that his attitude of the last weeks probably participated in her entitlement. But now his eyes were open.

“Neal,” Christa called him gently, before he could say anything. “I'll go and get lunch ready.”

This morning, she had warned him that Grace didn't think they were over and he'd need to talk to her. She was right, of course, he was now painfully aware of it. And clearly, she encouraged him to have this conversation now. She was probably right again. As well be done with it, the sooner the better.  
He nodded to her, grateful; he wasn't sure that he'd be as generous or tolerant in her stead. She nodded back and turned on her heels while he addressed Grace curtly, showing her the door.

“Christa lives here, and I don't want to impose your presence on her any longer. If you want to talk, it will be outside.”

Grace huffed and stormed off. As soon as Neal was in the corridor and closed the door behind him, she gave him a piece of her mind. 

“I don't appreciate the way you treated me here. It was _callous_ ,” she seethed in a low voice.

“And I don't appreciate the way you used our past friendship in order to manipulate me.”

He was terribly calm, his eyes were terribly cold, and for the first time she truly felt him slipping away from her grasp. Her anger sobered at once. He never reacted well to aggression, she knew it. She had to calm down and be smart rather than emotional. 

“Neal, you're making a terrible mistake,” she argued, softening the inflexions of her voice, appealing to both heart and reason.

“I thought I always made the right decision?” he countered, raising a brow.

And by sending her own words back to her face, he left her with nothing to answer. His stance made it clear that he wouldn't believe anything she'd say anyway. 

“That's what you want for us? Bitterness, sarcasms and cheap shots? After all that we shared?” she pleaded then, changing her angle. “We can't end like this!”

He closed his eyes, sighed. Her hope that she had reached him burst into pieces when he looked at her again, and the only thing she saw in his gaze was mild irritation.

“For the last time, Grace, there is no 'us'. 'We' ended more than a year ago.”

“You wanted to marry me.”

“And you said no. The way I see things now, you did me a huge favor.”

She opened her mouth, but didn't manage to emit a sound. There was no animosity, no regret in his stance. He was stating a fact. This time, she couldn't doubt that he meant those words, no matter how ludicrous they sounded to her ears. 

“Was it all you had to say to me?” he went on.

He was unyielding, and she felt cornered. Gentle persuasion or pleas wouldn't work. Since she had nothing to lose, she took the gloves off. 

“I can't believe you're choosing her...Don't you see you're going to regret it? Don't you see that she's merely a rebound? We were together for two _years_ , we were friends before that. You can't throw it all away for a fling, purely out of spite! She isn't what you need. She doesn't know you like I do. You can't tell me that you don't want me and mean it. You can't tell me that you don't love me anymore.”

Her words did provoke a shift in his attitude. Until then, it was cold. It was now freezing.

“I don't remember ever telling you I did.” 

She couldn't believe his gall. No, he had never _told_ her he loved her, not in those precise terms. Of course he hadn't, he was unable to express his emotions. She used to tease him about it, she had _reproached_ him with it when he wouldn't say the words in order to make her stay, arguing that she wouldn't anyway.  
He just wanted to hurt her. He was sad and furious when she refused his proposal, it was proof that...

“I stayed,” he pointed out, having followed her train of thought.

Those two words, uttered most dispassionately, caused her confidence to falter. They reminded her that during her first weeks in Haiti she was certain he'd change his mind and would show up any day, only to be sorely disappointed when she realized he wouldn't. 

“Now you're going to tell me you'd have followed _her_ ,” she mocked. 

She had just meant to spite him in return. Unfortunately, he took her words seriously. He didn't answer, but his gaze was telling.

“I don't believe you.” 

“Grace, I didn't accept to talk to you in order to discuss my past relationship with you or my life with Christa. I do not care about what you believe or what you think. I just want to make sure that you and I have an understanding about three matters.” 

He paused and stared at her until she rolled her eyes and nodded to signify that yes, she would _listen_. 

“One, I didn't choose Christa, because there never was a choice to make in my mind. If you think that I could be with her and pine for another, you truly don't know me at all. The very idea would be insulting to her, to me and to us. And here I mean the only 'us' that includes me, which is the one that also includes her,” he stressed. “Am I clear?”

As he spoke, Grace's desperate anger made way for aggravation. He was chastising her, and she wasn't pleased.

“Crystal,” she answered pointedly. “Maybe you should have been more explicit before, then.”

“Here, I'm going to apologize. I thought that I had been clear enough during our discussions upon your return, and that we could try to stay friends. Nevertheless and although I fail to understand how, it seems that my attitude created confusion instead. For this, I am sorry.”

She just shrugged. His half-assed apology wasn't enough to placate her after what he just did and said to her. 

“Which leads me to my second point, the boundaries I mentioned earlier. My relationship with Christa is off-limits to you. My privacy is off-limits to you. Of course, it goes both ways and I'll strictly avoid any personal conversation with you. Nevertheless, I hope that we can maintain a courteous professional relationship.”

She gaped at him. He was serious, he was deadly serious. 

“We've been friends for years...You think you can erase our bond with a snap of your fingers? You think it's that simple?”

“I don't think we have the same definition of friendship. Lies and manipulation aren't part of mine so actually yes, it's that simple. There's only one woman I can't live without, Grace, and this woman isn't you. I wish you no ill but since we're brutally honest, the person I saw in you today isn't someone I want around me.”

This was the last straw. She had done nothing wrong. She had fought for him, for what they used to have, for what was supposed to be hers. He had no right whatsoever to judge her, less after he lost his head for the first blonde who came his way. 

“I don't think I'll miss too much the person you've become,” she scoffed. She intended to sound haughty, she was aware she sounded bitter. “Now if you'll excuse me, I have little taste and little time for humiliation. I have a daughter to take care of. ”

“Third point, Grace,” he called her back, in the most polite but most authoritative tone, before she could walk away. “I've always considered you to be a devoted doctor and a good teacher. I hope that at least, I wasn't wrong about this side of you. But just in case...I expect that Christa won't have to suffer from her personal situation when she's working with you. Otherwise, I'd have to talk to Leanne.” 

Neal never misused the sibling-like relationship he had with the ER director. But they both knew that he'd just have to ask, and Grace was out of Angels Memorial...the unforgiving light in his eyes said that he wouldn't hesitate, if he ever thought she wronged his precious Christa. 

“You don't have to worry. I, for one, have always kept my eyes on medicine,” she scowled.

She intended to make a dignified exit, but he was back inside and closing the door in her face before she finished her second sentence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As far as I'm concerned this is how the triangle ended. It's, at the very least, how it _should_ have ended.  
>  Of course, it shouldn't have started and we wouldn't be in the predicament we're in.  
> Next chapter: Neal's POV on the triangle-that-actually-wasn't and the events of this chapter, and Christa helping him deal with it all.


	3. Thawed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _a.k.a how Neal finally learns the virtues of communication and has no regret whatsoever_  
>  by an author who is now free to stick to her headcanon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Non beta-ed, please forgive any mistake you might find.

Grace understood that his threat wasn't an idle one, which was the only thing that mattered to Neal. Once he was certain of it, their conversation had no more point and he closed the door before she finished speaking. He didn't want to keep Christa waiting one second more than necessary while he settled things with his ex-girlfriend. 

He leaned his back against the wooden panel and took a deep breath. 

He had been single for months when he met Christa, he was free when he committed to her. Yet, this last discussion with Grace had sounded like a break-up. He felt like a cad, and he didn't like it one bit. 

He still didn't know how he managed to let things derail so badly.

All this time, he thought that Grace was struggling to find her new place as his friend while getting over her residual feelings for him. He never understood why she fancied herself still in love with him since she was the one who left, but he was sorry for her. After all, he had been in her shoes. Hearing Campbell asking her out had been rather awkward for him, so he could imagine how dismayed she was to find that he had fully moved on. He was fond of her and after he already rejected her twice on the day she returned, he didn't want to rub salt in her wounds by pointing at every turn that they were over whereas she was mourning their relationship. 

He had no more feelings for her, but he had done his own mourning in her absence and her presence confronted him to a whole new process. He was sad when he looked at her, sad for her heartache and, although he didn't regret it was over, sad for their failure to make it work. He still thought of her as a great person then and felt dimly guilty since he had discovered that he was never able to love her as she deserved.  
In addition, the idea of failure had brought questions and insecurities back to the surface. She never gave him a reason as to why she refused his proposal. When he fell in love with Christa, he simply assumed that Grace's feelings didn't run deeper than his. It didn't matter anymore, then.  
Nevertheless, with her return his old and deeply rooted worry that he wasn't good enough came back to taunt him with a vengeance. He didn't want to upset Grace by bringing up their past so he didn't ask, but her reasons for leaving him began to matter again in another way. He began to wonder what he did wrong, began to fear that he'd reiterate the same mistakes and prompt Christa to leave him in turn. It didn't help that he felt out of his depth in Surgery. The professional self-confidence he had built over the years was shattered, and it spilled over personal territory. 

He wasn't thinking straight, thus making the mistake of not sharing his turmoil with Christa for a number of reasons that mostly seemed like good ones at the time. He wanted to spare her since his past was his problem, not hers, and she having to work with his ex-girlfriend was awkward enough; he didn't want her to get the wrong idea, didn't want her to imagine that it meant questioning his feelings for her or their relationship and as always when he didn't trust himself to say the right words, he said none; he didn't want her to know that another woman had rejected him and perhaps clue her in that he wasn't good enough for her, either; he didn't want her to know how insecure he felt, he wanted her to see him as strong and dependable.  
Mainly, he was aware that no one could solve his issues but himself so he kept her out of it, focused on sorting everything out, unware that he emotionally shut off in the process...and obtained the very result he wanted to avoid. Christa took the brunt of the situation. He had failed her and in a twisted way his absence of reaction had let Grace become a third person in their relationship. 

So after the latter's stunt today, Neal considered himself lucky that his girlfriend was still cooking in his kitchen and not packing her belongings. He hurriedly crossed the living room, eager for her company, eager to forget about the disruption. She was pouring some creamy soup in two small bowls and looked his way when she heard him come up. 

“I'm so sorry,” he blurted out before he could help himself.

Christa didn't answer. Instead, she put the saucepan down on the stove, walked to him and closed her arms around his waist. The tension in his chest eased off and he hugged her back, kissed her forehead.

“We're OK, Neal,” she promised him, running her eyes over his face. 

Her tone was all gentleness and he read nothing but sympathy in her gaze. After what he put her through during the last weeks, today's ridiculous scene and his ex intruding their privacy once more, she could have...she should have been fed up and angry all over again. Instead, she cared for what troubled him, knew him enough to guess what it was, and only thought of reassuring him.

_I love you._

“I'm so sorry that I allowed her to cause you grief,” he said instead. 

“You already apologized this morning.”

“I apologized because I hurt you. But now I know that I let her hurt you, too. Until a moment ago, I didn't realize the pressure she must have put on you. I didn't truly understand what you meant when you said she was trying to get under your skin. It was supposed to be my problem, and it became yours even more than mine.”

_“One day, Christa will understand...You can't control how you feel.”_

With those words, at long last, his blind self saw the light. The more she talked, the clearer it became that Grace had been lying to him and manipulating him for weeks. It finally struck him that her whole discourse had a double meaning and under the pretense of friendly talks, like they used to have before they dated, she was actually hitting on him. Christa had been right all along. His ex-girlfriend still wanted him back; and she had no qualms about using his professional dilemmas and his affection for her as an end to her means, showing how little she respected him or cared for him. She thought so lowly of him that she imagined he'd betray the woman he was with and hop from one bed to another.  
He expected to be angry, and on some level he was, but mostly he was disappointed and above all, he was rather ashamed of himself. Now that he had been witness to Grace's determination and entitlement, he was painfully aware of how Christa was led to believe she was his second choice, and just how worse his stubborn silence must have made things for her. 

“And I'm sorry for today,” he added.

“She arrived here uninvited, it wasn't your fault.”

“I did invite her in, though. I should have slammed the door in her face the moment I saw her standing there.” 

She raised a brow.

“You think it would have been enough to deter her?”

No, unfortunately he didn't. It was the main reason for what he had done. Grace was stubborn and she refused to listen, she heard and saw only through the filter of what she wanted. As she was going on about her distorted interpretation of the situation, he had realized that unless she got a brutal reality check, she'd never accept the truth and leave them alone.

“I should have asked you beforehand, though.” 

“If I had known she was the person at the door, I would have been all over you when you opened it,” she quipped, stroking his cheek. 

“No you wouldn't,” he denied with a fond smile.

She wouldn't have done such a thing because she never flaunted their relationship. _If we don't talk, they don't talk_. She had always kept it low-key and didn't change her attitude lately, didn't make show of their privacy by kissing him in public or sharing it with everyone, even though any woman would have been tempted to do so in response to Grace's maneuvers. 

“I can't say I regret that you took her down a peg or twenty,” she insisted.

Indeed, she wasn't sorry for Grace, she didn't pretend she was sorry for Grace and why would she be anyway, but there was no trace of glee or triumph in her attitude either. Even facing his ex earlier she had been cold and sarcastic, not gloating. She didn't have one hypocrite or petty bone in her body, and he loved her all the more for it.

For his part, he didn't regret his gesture but he wasn't sure he was comfortable with it. Christa had to know, and was just trying to make him feel better about it. Thankful for her kindness, and repressing an unpleasant feeling nagging at the corners of his mind, he tucked a strand of her silken blond hair behind her ear. 

“I'm no angel, you know,” she denied, as if she was reading his thoughts. “See, there's one thing I'll never forgive her.”

“Just one?” 

“Yes,” she nodded vigourously. “Her timing. Couldn't she have waited at least another half an hour before she barged in?” 

She was joking, mostly...with a touch of real irritation, and she undid him. Only Christa could surprise him like this, only she could change the atmosphere from heavy to light, only she could change his mood from brooding to carefree with merely a few words. Only she could melt his heart and arouse him at the same time. 

He pulled her closer to him, leaning in until their lips almost touched.

“We could resume what we were doing?”

She shook her head. “The mood is broken...”

“You have no idea of how quickly you can get me in the mood.”

“And I won't save our lunch twice,” she warned, deadpan. 

He didn't know if a stomach could react to the mention of food, but his chose that very moment to rumble. He sighed in acceptance.

She grinned. “Rain check, though?”

“Definitely,” he answered, before he finally allowed himself to kiss her deeply, thoroughly, looking for a last solace in her embrace.

“Neal?” she asked after they parted.

Her tone was honey sweet, outrageously so. He couldn't help but grin back at her, expecting another quip. 

“Yes?” 

“You didn't _already_ forget how nobly trying to spare me of your issues worked for us, did you?” 

And just like that, she knocked the breath out of him. There was no rebuke in her stance, and a humorous light in the depth of her eyes, but she hit the nail on the head all the same.

“It isn't her...Oh, damn it,” he growled.

The very moment he spoke, a weight lifted from his shoulders and he felt a sudden need to spill out everything to her...which of course would put said weight on _her_ shoulders. So much for his so-called noble intentions.

“We're OK,” she repeated, hands gliding comfortingly across his back. “I know where you stand, now. I'd rather that you share it with me in case it's something that might have an impact on us, but you don't have to talk if...”

“I want to,” he cut short.

He let go of her, rubbed his hands over his face in frustration. 

“I want to talk to you, but once again I'm going to burden you with my past.”

She stood on her tiptoes and softly pressed her mouth against his.

“If it's the only baggage you have, I'm going to travel light.”

“Christa...” _I love you._

He took her hand and placed a kiss on the inner side of her wrist, so that he wouldn't say it.

Answering with a lovely beam, she entwined her fingers with his and tugged on his arm. She led him to one of the stools and once he was settled, walked around the counter and busied herself with preparing two trays of food.

“Talk.”

The hint of an encouraging smile softened what could have passed as an order, and her focusing on another task made him feel more at ease to speak...which she certainly anticipated. 

“This was so...undignified,” he heard himself say. “What just happened...and that whole scene.”

He had never imagined, no, not in a million years, that he'd purposefully embarrass a woman. It wasn't how his parents had raised him. Moreover, Grace was a woman he had believed he loved and had envisioned a future with, a woman he used to respect, to like, a woman he had thought could remain a good friend in spite of their romantic history, which made it even more unthinkable.

“You never had bad break-ups?”

“That's the point. My relationship with her ended more than a year ago. How could it be a break-up?”

“Because sometimes it takes only one to tango?”she suggested, while she retrieved a tin in the oven. “It wasn't over for her. It kind of made it necessary. Only, you aren't responsible for what others feel or for their actions. It doesn't matter what it was on her side. The important is what it was on yours.”

“But it isn't right. It sounds as if I left her for you, or as if I was...”

He paused, as always struggling to find the right words in such an instance.

“Emotionally cheating on me?” she provided. 

“Yes,” he agreed, no matter how much he hated the term and all the more since his attitude could have been read that way. “And I didn't. I was over her, I just saw her as a friend. It isn't fair to me, to us, and least of all to you.” 

“You can break-up with friends, too,” she pointed in her kind, no-nonsense way. 

She was right.

She was absolutely, bloody damn right. 

And in a few words, she allowed him to see everything under a new light. His sensibilities were still offended but, all of a sudden, the whole situation didn't seem obscene to him anymore.

“So I fail to see how you needing to vent because you feel betrayed by a friend, and feeling guilty because you hit back, could in any way be unfair to me.”

Probably sensing that he was gaping at her, she glanced up the olive and bacon cake she was slicing. 

“You thought she was your friend, and I heard what she said. No need to be Sherlock Holmes to make a very educated guess. Moreover, if 'it isn't her'...it has to be you.”

“She's still my ex, and after what happened...” he hesitated.

“Neal, that she was your ex-girlfriend was never an issue in itself for me. I had a problem with the fact that she forgot the 'ex' part of it and was trying to get you back. I had an even bigger problem with the fact that you weren't honest and open with me whereas I knew that something was going on with you. Don't apologize again,” she warned, “I don't mean to blame you here, I said my piece this morning. What I mean is that at this point in our lives, it's only normal that we had significant relationships before. I guess that both you and I know how precious is one that you can value and look back on with fondness, even though it didn't work out. She's a woman who counted in your life, your relationship with her meant something to you. It did, past tense. And since it's in the past, it doesn't slight me, or us, and I don't feel awkward about it...again, not now that I know clearly where you stand.” 

Christa was straighforward to a fault, and would never pretend she was fine with something that actually bothered her. Relieved, Neal stopped fighting his instinct for confiding in her.

“I did feel betrayed. Blind and stupid, also,” he conceded. “And very disappointed because indeed, I did value her and our past friendship. It's such a gigantic waste. As for what I did today...I don't know if I feel guilty. I don't like it. I feel that it isn't me. But at the same time, I don't regret it.”

“Neal Hudson doesn't have regrets,” she teased gently with a hand on her heart, leaving him with no choice but to chuckle. 

He didn't regret either that he followed his instinct. It felt so good to talk to her. She had the knack of bringing levity to a discussion just when he needed it.

“I mean, I don't like what it might say about me. I was aware that she wouldn't open her eyes unless I browbeat her into it. But the way I did it...a small part of me wanted to hit back, yes.”

“It's always hard when you lose respect for someone you loved,” she mused.

“I didn't. Love her, I mean. I thought it was love, but it wasn't,” he specified.

Neal was learning to read Christa's silences and this one meant that she didn't believe him, but didn't think that it was her place to comment on the matter. 

“I'm not trying to deny my past feelings because of what happened today. I knew it before she even came back.”

_Because I love you._

He had always thought he was unable to say the words, putting it down to his chronic inability to express a certain kind of emotions. But falling for Christa had proven him wrong since with her, he had to hold those same words back. He never managed to tell Grace that he loved her for a simple reason, then. Unknown to him, it would have been a lie. 

“I didn't want a kind of belated revenge over her for leaving me a year ago, or for not loving me enough to accept my proposal. To be honest, I was relieved when I saw that only her ego was hurt and whatever she believed, she had no real feelings for me. I did want to put her in her place, but not for those reasons. Her attitude...” he broke off. 

Christa handed him his lunch tray, and threw him a questioning look. He didn't quite know how to go on, though. By dint of talking, following his train of thought without overthinking, he had an epiphany and just discovered what had prompted his treatment of Grace.

Even when he was shocked and disappointed upon her refusal to marry him, he still wished her well. This time around, telling her how little he thought of her attitude and putting an end to their friendship would have been enough for him.  
It was her complete lack of remorse and empathy towards Christa that had made him fly off the handle; her hypocritical protests and flat out lie about having never meant to create trouble playing the role of the proverbial straw.  
Grace's cold dismissal of Christa and their relationship had spurred him to invite her in and see for herself what exact place his girlfriend had in his life, including in his bed. Grace's stubborn denial of his love for Christa had spurred him to tell her that the place his girlfriend had in his heart was never Grace's nor any other's. 

He didn't care whether his ex regretted her attitude towards him or not, but he wanted her to realize and regret what she did to Christa. Avenging his ego wasn't part of his motivations, hurting Grace wasn't part of his goal. It allowed him to identify the unpleasant feeling he had been trying to repress since their confrontation: Fear that somewhere, he might have maliciously enjoyed embarrassing her, fear that hurting someone could please him at any level. It vanished with the certainty that it wasn't the case, leaving him reconciled with himself and finally, with complete closure. Was his gesture callous? Maybe. Well, he had no issue with being callous if it was for Christa's sake.

Yet, considering his own role in the misunderstanding, he'd have a hard time explaining everything to her without looking like a self-righteous hypocrite.

“I thought she was kind and compassionate, whereas she was all but. I couldn't bear that she got away with her behavior,” he evaded, as Christa was sitting down on the stool next to him. “I'm not proud of it, and part of me is sad that I had to go this far, but I feel no guilt and no regret.” 

“It seems that talking did you good,” she remarked after a long stare at him.

“Indeed,” he grinned, a tad contrite. “I should try it more often.”

Before he could see it coming, she was leaning in and laying the most tender kiss on his lips. 

“Thank you.”

He didn't ask what the kiss was for. Her knowing, loving smile said it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that the explanations for Neal's attitude in the triangle are satisfying enough. I didn't develop his professional turmoil much since it will be more in the spotlight on _Not Given Lightly_.  
>  Why won't he just spit the L word? Because he has reasons and they're in chapter 4, that's why :)  
> As always, thanks for reading!


	4. Fresh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a.k.a _Of lovebirds and elephants in the room_  
>  by an author whose story, to no one's surprise, stubbornly veered off its initial (shorter) trajectory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Destination happy ending unchanged. A fluffy, flirty, lovey-dovey stop on the way.  
> Christa's POV.  
> Non beta-ed, please forgive any mistake you might find.

Neal had done it for her, and it meant the world to Christa. 

Of course, once she understood that he didn't suspect Grace's true intentions, she expected he'd have to clear things with her. If she never imagined he'd do it so brutally, she certainly didn't have a problem with it.

Grace's entitlement, her hypocrisy, the constant pressure she exerted on them and their relationship, as well as her attempts to destabilize her including on a professional level, quickly got the better of Christa's sincere initial efforts to get along and welcome her at least as a colleague. And since the attending went after her boyfriend with no shame, no respect nor any consideration for her feelings, Christa didn't deem that she owed her any in return. As far as she was concerned, Grace got what she deserved. 

Yet in itself, it brought her neither joy nor satisfaction. 

To her own surprise, being witness to the woman's manipulations didn't make her blood boil for once. Well, she _did_ roll her eyes to high heavens; but gone was her frustration. The knowledge that Neal never intended to shut her out, less because of his ex, changed everything. She was done with Grace Adams, because he was done with her, and she never mattered to start with. She did actively contribute to the crisis they weathered, yet she had been only a catalyst, triggering issues on both their sides. Now Christa understood Neal's. As for hers...

Although Neal couldn't be more different from Mark, in the last couple of weeks she felt trapped in a similar situation: She and her partner were drifting apart and she was unable to reach him. They still had great moments, wonderful moments, probably why she was confident at first that he was only struggling with his career transition and would share with her when he was ready. Yet as time went by, except after they made love she sensed some distance, some things left unsaid. She did her best to ignore that they could stay in their happy bubble only if they made abstraction of his new job, and his ex; but too late, her latent fear of fighting alone another battle lost in advance was awakened. She was never good at pretending, anyway.  
Hence, Neal's spontaneous show of support achieved to reassure her. There was no problem with her and her choice of men. She had fallen in love with someone loyal and trustworthy, someone who valued her, someone who could be a true partner.

And right now, as they ate breakfast side by side, the silence between them companionable again for the first time in days, her someone was downing his food at the speed of light.

“Is this cauliflower soup?” he asked after he put the small bowl down next to the other now empty dishes on his tray. “I can't believe I love it that much.”

“You don't like cauliflower?”

“Not my favorite.” 

She suspected it was the British way of saying “even the smell makes me queasy”.

“Then why did you have some in your fridge?” 

“It's low on fat and contains high levels of vitamin C.”

“You're still trying to acquire the taste because it's healthy? You're aware there are at least twenty other aliments with an equivalent dietary value, right?”

A mischievous grin lit up his face, and her heart swelled. It was so good to banter freely again, with no cloud hovering over their heads.

“Let's say I'm persistent...and you of all people should know that it's never too late to change.”

“Touché,” she conceded, smiling back. “So, how's the acquiring going?”

“Not well, at least it didn't until a couple of minutes ago.” 

He punctuated his answer with a peck on her lips.

“The perks of dating an ex-soccer mom. Cooking became a huge part of my life...What?” 

His expression had unexpectedly shifted to pensive as she spoke.

“Ah, sorry. I just realized I never really asked you about your life, before...”

Well, she didn't voluntarily provide for information either. Once in med school and taking a fresh start, she decided to never look back. She didn't deliberately avoid the topic with Neal, but bar a few anecdotes or childhood memories, she never pursued it either. It wasn't as if their crazy days at work ever left them without something to discuss. She was content with sharing their present, learning to know each other's temper and enjoying their relationship without baggage. 

“Actually, I...er, I'd like to know about your profession, for example. Did you have a job? You mentioned college once, but you didn't say what you studied.”

“I was a music teacher,” she chose to answer after a short silence. 

“You what?” 

“I taught music, before I had my son.” His astonishment couldn't but put her a bit on the defensive. “What did you expect? A course for stay-at-home moms?”

He placed a hand on her thigh in apology. 

“I don't know...Maybe something more run-of-the-mill? But hey, I did remark on your beautiful voice once,” he quipped tentatively.

“Only because I was singing in the shower and you hoped to get in with me,” she countered, her playful tone conveying that she wasn't offended. 

“I was sincere...you always let me in anyway.”

He sneaked his hand around her waist and pulled her to him; she got up, following his move. He trailed his lips above her exposed collarbone, keeping her close with his arm around her hip, and she sighed with well-being.

“So you studied music...” 

“...and music education. At Berklee College,” she specified, anticipating his next question.

He whistled. “You're full of surprises, Christa. What do you play?”

“The standards. Piano, violin. I switched the latter for the guitar in high-school. I also tried the harp for a while, you know, the whole wanting to be unique teenage phase. And I took a short course of basic drums in college.”

“You must have spent your days and nights practicing...How did you ever find time for anything else?”

She arched a brow. “You seem to know what you're talking about?”

People who weren't familiar with music had, most often, no notion of how time-consuming it actually was.

“I play the piano,” he revealed.

Unless he took a sip of his tea in an attempt to conceal his slight embarrassment, she'd have thought he was pulling another medical journal-type prank on her.

“You...Seriously?” She looked around to check, by pure reflex. A piano wasn't something one could miss. “You don't have one here.”

“No, since I happen to have neighbors.”

She chuckled, but didn't miss some stilted undertone. Uh-oh.

“You told me you played soccer when you were a boy.”

“Teenager, actually. It was my first act of rebellion.”

“Against your father.” 

“Mostly.” 

He poured himself a glass of strawberry smoothie and gestured to offer her a refill.

“It's delicious. Did you put a bit of basil in it?”

“Traditionally, fathers want their sons to practice sports. And your father seems quite the traditional man.”

Since Neal admitted to feeling better after talking to her, she decided that from now on she'd follow her instincts and insist instead of letting him brood. He didn't even try to divert her attention again, so she reckoned her instincts were right on the money here.

“He is, yes. Except that sports implied a risk of hurting my hands, of breaking them badly maybe, which would jeopardize my future as a surgeon.”

“And playing the piano...”

“Is good training for hand and finger mobility. ”

“You didn't exaggerate when you said you were groomed,” she mused.

He cleared his throat.

“Actually, it was kind of my idea for once. My mother loves jazz, she listens to it all day long. I must have thought that pianists were cool, or maybe I wanted to please her, but I've been told that when I was three or four I was pretending to play everywhere, tapping my fingers on tables while humming her favorite tunes...”

“Like air guitar, with a piano instead ?” she proposed, noting with satisfaction that his gloomy air made way for a guffaw. “You were ahead of your time.”

“And before you hear it through the family grapevine, because they all love this one...that same year, my father received the first award of his career, and my parents took me with them to the ceremony. Unfortunately, there was a piano at the venue and I hijacked it for a rather unfaithful rendition of _Summertime_ , during the speech of whichever Royal was there to preside. Needless to say that they chose to leave me at home for the next award...and got me a music teacher.”

She giggled as she imagined the scene, little curly-haired Neal hitting the keys with gusto and causing havoc among the posh, horrified audience...

_Mommy, for you!_

Her baby at her piano, with a huge proud smile on his face, creating the most lovely cacophony she ever heard, maybe a month before he fell ill. She sitting next to her bedridden boy, teaching him how to play on her old synth, both of them forgetting pain and fear...

Neal tightened his hold on her waist, jolting her out of her flashback. His dark eyes were worried now. _I didn't mean to upset you..._  
She threaded her fingers through his hair. _You didn't._  
Heaving a relieved breath, he pulled her on his lap. She hooked one arm around his shoulders, her feet on the stool leg keeping her balanced. 

“Your mother is very lucky to have you. And so am I.” 

She loved him so much at this very moment. Because he loved his mom like her boy had loved her. Because she was thankful to him for reminding her of her happiest moments with her son, whereas her job often brought back the most tragic. 

“I'm the lucky one.” 

Although his tone stayed light, he gave her that intense gaze of his...the one that invariably went straight to her heart and melted it and sometimes, like right now, also went to her head and got her happy to the point of giddiness. Her emotion changed into pure carefree joy and she gave in to the delicious impulse of having silly fun.

“Yes, your mom seems great,” she remarked, all mock innocence.

His lips quirked, his eyes twinkled.

“She is, but I wasn't alluding to my mom.”

“Aw,” she murmured, and brushed her lips against his while she purposefully trailed a hand down his chest. “Aren't you sweet...”

She stopped abruptly her progression, fingers hovering near his belly button, and offered him a coy smile. He pinched lightly the side of her thigh in retaliation, before he caught her mouth mid-laugh in a deep kiss that left her breathless. There was a touch of heat there, a promise for more.  
_Later_ , his eyes conveyed when they parted. _Later _, she agreed, stroking the sides of his face. It was so good to talk, to share, to joke with him, knowing he'd make love to her eventually and they'd partake in another kind of closeness.__

__She shifted to grab her mug. “Another question about my job?”_ _

__“Where did you teach?”_ _

__“I stayed at my alma matter. Berklee's high school academy.”_ _

__“I'd very much like to hear you play, you know.”_ _

__“You took the words right out of my mouth. Once more.”_ _

She sipped on her coffee with a sideways glance to underline the innuendo. His gaze dropped to her lips, he took the mug out of her hands, put it back on the counter as he tilted his head towards her. As she expected, he pulled away before their mouths touched, teasing her in turn...or rather, teasing them both. _Later._

__“You liked it? Teaching, I mean,” he specified with a loopsided smirk._ _

__“I did. A lot.”_ _

__“I'm sure you were great. No, truly,” he insisted, serious again. “I see you everyday with your patients, remember? You've got a knack of translating our jargon and explaining clearly the procedures.”_ _

_In part because I have been on both sides of the fences._ She steeled herself against the idea, trying to derail a train of throught that she saw coming and would spoil their moment. 

__“I behaved differently back then. I was a rather strict teacher...The bossy kind.”_ _

_Loss hardens you or it softens you. For me, it was the latter._

“I had a glimpse at that side of you when you were the code bag...but rather than 'bossy', I'd say you were 'efficient'. _Terribly_ efficient,” he finished, wiggling his eyebrows. 

__And just like that, he chased the woeful flashbacks away. No one but Neal could make her forget everything with only a few words. No one but him could make her laugh and keep her dark thoughts at bay._ _

__In a surge of tenderness she rested her forehead on his, nuzzled his nose. Then, with an impish smile, she showered him with kisses, over and over, one hand setting off again for his stomach while keeping him at a distance, the other grazing teasingly his nape and gliding down his back; and this time she didn't stop until he tensed and groaned._ _

__“I guess you can say I'm efficient,” she agreed._ _

__“It wasn't too difficult to give up on a job that you loved?” he went on absently, his gaze locked on her mouth, his knuckles grazing her cheekbone._ _

__“At first, yes. I was excited to become a mother, and bored with everything else. I wouldn't admit it, but I was so glad I insisted I keep working until I was pregnant. Of course, once Ryan was born, everything changed. He became the center of my life.”_ _

__He stilled and ran concerned eyes over her face in the same way he had earlier, when she got lost in the image of her son at her piano. It suddenly struck her that, kind as always, Neal worried that any mention of him would rub salt in her wounds._ _

__It was true that sorrow and grief always lurked under the surface and threatened to overwhelm her if she wasn't careful. During the first few years she avoided reminiscing altogether unless she was alone or in therapy, so as to eliminate any risk of breaking down in public. And although she learned step by step how to not systematically associate a reminder of Ryan's life with his death, or rather to keep the latter in the back of her mind, she never got out of the habit. Besides, the couple of times she and Neal had touched upon him it had been at Angels and pertaining to patients, always linked to his illness and her loss, which of course led her to say as little as possible.  
No wonder she gave Neal the wrong impression, impression she meant to correct now. Her happy memories were all she had left, her most precious treasure. She'd be glad to share them with him. She didn't want invisible barriers between them, less so after what they just went through. It spurred her to reveal more, in the hope it would appease his concerns and to ensure he wouldn't be compelled to tiptoe around the elephant in the room._ _

__“It isn't only a figure of speech, he did become the center of my daily life. I didn't feel like leaving him at daycare, not even when I went shopping or to the hairdresser or to lunch with my friends. He was so sweet and well-behaved, I could take him anywhere. Once he was a bit older, I organized play dates, family gatherings and other activities. He loved it when I played music for him. But our favorite moments together involved cooking. As soon as he could walk, he'd tug on my hand and lead me to the kitchen, it was his way of asking I prepare something...”_ _

__“Let me guess. Cookies and chocolate?”_ _

__“As a matter of fact, he liked this cauliflower soup a whole lot. He once poured his chocolate milk in it, though.”_ _

__“Maybe it's a combination I should try in my taste-acquiring quest,” he feigned to ponder._ _

__She chuckled._ _

__“I loved the mom side of my life. It made it bearable to have to play the doctor's wife and organize or attend those stupid dinners and receptions, where I had to go without my son.”_ _

__Neal threw her a surprised glance. Ah, damn. She chose to speak the most spontaneously and naturally possible, so that he'd feel at ease with the topic, so much that she got carried away and forgot to watch her words._ _

__“My ex was a family physician,” she explained. Aware of the touch of ice in her voice, she steered the discussion in a different direction. “In the uber posh area of Boston where we lived, it came with a certain number of social obligations. But I guess you're familiar with it...As a renowned neurosurgeon's wife, your mother must have tons of those, right?_ _

__“Actually, my mom works with my dad. Kind of.”_ _

__She frowned. “Didn't you explain to her what an intubation was, when she was poisoned?”_ _

__“She isn't medical staff. Very early in my dad's career, she launched a charity to support patients in the service where he worked. It's now covering a dozen hospitals. She always considered social outings as part of her business, opportunities to get donations or publicity. Hence, she never minded them.”_ _

__“It must keep her awfully busy. I had the feeling that she was quite present in your life, though...And don't you have three siblings?”_ _

__He nodded. “She was more present than my father, for sure. They also waited until the foundation was on tracks, with competent staff who could take over if needed, before they had other children. I'm nearly nine years older than Richard, who comes after me. And Beth, the youngest, is about Malaya's age.”_ _

__“Your mother _is_ great.”_ _

__“I'd say she's terribly efficient. You two should get along.”_ _

They both laughed, yet silence followed and stretched. They had talked about her college education, her life with her son, and chronology left them in front of Pandora's box a.k.a. her current marital status, or lack thereof. It was an apt comparison since beyond the noncommittal “my husband left me”, what happened was too complicated to be summed up in a few words, unless she painted it with a black and white brush.  
She was willing to share that part of her past with Neal, too. She would, eventually. But today...After the stress of the last weeks, after she thought they were over, she was reluctant to let go of the retrieved serenity and light-heartedness between them. Moreover, he had no idea of what he'd be in for. It would amount to imposing the sordid tale of her divorce on him.  
On the other hand, Neal had bared his soul to her in the morning and he confided in her again, a moment ago, about deeply intimate feelings pertaining to an ex. Of course, he'd never expect she reciprocate. He'd be horrified if she felt pressured to talk, but wouldn't it be unfair to ask for more communication and not practice what she preached?  
As a matter of fact, shouldn't she make the first move? He wouldn't want to pry, probably why he stared at her without a word. 

__She was still dithering over her dilemma when he heaved a sigh, kissed the top of her head, and finished his cup of tea. Then..._ _

__“So, you have a thing for doctors? Should I worry that you're with me for my scrubs only?” he inquired of the blue._ _

__His deadpan delivery cracked her up, the fond smile that followed made her fall for him all over again. Sensing her tension, Neal chose to drop the subject. She couldn't express how grateful she was for his understanding and his thoughtfulness. The fact that he was comfortable enough to joke, albeit indirectly, about her ex-husband (did she, ever? God, it was so liberating) alleviated the dim guilt she felt for stalling him._ _

__“I never was with any other guy remotely linked to medicine. I mostly dated musicians, you know. If I have a thing, it's probably for pianists...” she suggested, following his lead and resuming their banter._ _

__“Note to self. Buy a new piano ASAP.”_ _

__“So you can imagine that the last thing I expected, when I began my residency, was to develop this huge crush on a colleague.”_ _

__“Huge, really?”_ _

__“Definitely huge. Like, blurting out invitations to my bed huge. Or thinking about him all the time huge.”_ _

__“All the time?”_ _

__He looked so adorably pleased, a smitten grin splitting his face from ear to ear, that she almost felt bad for her answer. Almost._ _

__“Yes. Taylor is quite irresistible in his white coat, don't you think?”_ _

__She batted her eyelashes._ _

__“You're full of it,” he chortled._ _

__“Yes, but I had you for a second.”_ _

__She slid down his lap before he could turn the tables on her and use underhanded tactics, for example kissing her senseless, to win this round.  
He raised a brow, to which she answered with a guileless smile while gathering their plates and cutlery. He wasn't fooled in the least but, after a forbearing shake of the head, he hopped down his stool to help her. She let him take over the task and in the meanwhile, she tended to the leftovers._ _

__“I can't believe you fell for that one,” she remarked as she placed the last plastic box in the fridge. “You didn't notice my overly long gazes at my crush? I'm quoting Malaya here.”_ _

__“I rather noticed all those directed at you,” he grumbled._ _

__She widened her eyes. He thinned his lips._ _

__“All those?”_ _

__“There was that cop who asked you out,” he shrugged, and turned around to put the plates in the dishwasher._ _

__His stance was uptight. He was a bit embarrassed about being possessive, and it was irresistible to her. Hence, she couldn't resist teasing him, just a little._ _

__“ _All_ those?”_ _

__“Come on, you certainly saw them.”_ _

__“Did I?”_ _

__“Other cops, firefighters, a couple of patients,” he enumerated, with a long-suffering roll of his eyes, “that male nurse from Ortho, the kid who tried to look up your shirt, Mario...”_ _

__“Mario?” she laughed out loud._ _

__He closed the dishwasher with a deft shove._ _

__“He kept on pestering you. Textbook schoolboy with a crush.”_ _

__“I rather think he wanted to rile me up, and would have run the other way if I had showed any int...”_ _

__She broke off, struck by a memory of him berating Mario in Center Stage. It had happened months before but since it was about the only occurrence where fair and collected Neal was overly harsh with anyone, the scene had somehow stuck with her. Other moments of that day were coming back to her now, bit by bit. Had he been...?_ _

__Neal was now wiping the counter, quite vigorously so. She laid a hand on his upper arm, incredulous._ _

__“You seriously thought that Mario and I...”_ _

__He sighed, again._ _

__“I was frustrated. I was an attending. Not technically your boss, yet still your superior. Mario was a resident, he didn't have any hurdle standing in his way. He's attractive, or so the choir of the nurses, male and female, says. And just when I realized I...I had feelings for you but told myself I couldn't act on them, you two began to get along and he flirted openly with you.”_ _

__He paused, ran a rueful hand though his hair._ _

__“I felt that you and I had a connection, something special. Yet what if for lack of initiative on my part, you eventually fell for him? It was only a fleeting thought, but quite an unpleasant one.”_ _

__She stepped closer, wound her arms around his neck._ _

__“You should hear what the choir of the nurses, male and female, says about you,” she asserted._ _

__He splayed his hands on the small of her back, mollified and a bit embarrassed about the allusion to his good looks. She loved how unassuming he was. She loved how handsome he was._ _

__“As for 'all those' gazes, how could I notice them? I only had eyes for you.”_ _

__And she loved to watch him still in amazement then beam in delight, upon realizing she had stopped playing and was sincere, too.  
He seemed on the verge of saying something...yet he didn't. It was a recurring pattern today, and she made a mental note to explore it later. Right now, she needed him to understand how much he meant to her. It might sound silly but she refused that anything, even a ludicrous notion, cheapened in Neal's eyes what she felt for him. Meeting him, falling in love with him, had been a miracle; believing that she had been wrong about what they had, heart-crushing._ _

__She smiled at him while she snuggled in his arms, her own now around his waist._ _

__“Remember what I told you about my priorities, after our breakfast at Hector's? I certainly wasn't looking. I didn't want anyone. I couldn't even fathom being in a relationship again, less with another doctor, someone I worked with. Then I met you, and you changed it all. It was always you. It could never be anybody else.”_ _

__“Christa...”_ _

__He whispered her name like an endearment, and as if the intense emotion she heard in his fervent voice and read in his ardent gaze flowed directly into her, she trembled along with him. His lips were on hers then, moving back and forth ever so tenderly, while his hands traveled up and down her back, holding her tighter against him. She stood on her tiptoes, molded herself to him. She wanted more of his caresses, more of him, moaned when his tongue entered her mouth and stroked hers until pure delight had her head spinning. She closed her eyes and let herself drown in their kiss, in the sweet and soft heat, in the perfect moment they shared, knowing he was with her all the way._ _

__A long embrace followed; swaying slowly, her head on his shoulder, his resting on hers, they savored the silent communion, simply happy to be together and closer than ever._ _

__“I guess I should count my blessings that you didn't hold my profession against me,” he finally murmured._ _

__She'd have thought it was another quip, since they had in common to often resort to humor when dealing with overpowering emotions, unless she raised her eyes to his face and caught him biting his lower lip in contrition._ _

__He _was_ holding back, he was tiptoeing around the elephant in the room. Her elephant in the room. Furthermore, the interest he just betrayed didn't arise from sheer curiosity. It wasn't like him at all to snoop. He didn't want to know just for the sake of it. There was a reason behind it and, since it was Neal, it had to be an important one.  
So she sighed inwardly, defeated, and went back to the slight hesitation she had noticed, but chose to ignore, when he first broached the subject of her past._ _

__“My job isn't really what you wanted to ask about, right?”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: There _should_ be six chapters instead of four, since Christa's background demanded to be written here and I didn't find my way around it. So the L word is postponed a bit.  
>  Asra Hudson's job is developed, and Christa's love for music mentioned, in my other story _Summertime_. This story is an alternate universe of sorts, but the headcanon is the same.  
>  Next chapter: All about Christa's divorce.  
> Thanks for reading!


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